The Journals of Eglanith
by zydrateeve
Summary: About 15 years after the Dragon Crisis and the Civil War in Skyrim, one of the last remaining female Snow Elves, Eglanith, is raised by a Khajit family after her mother's death. Angry with the harshness of the world and the end result of her people, Eglanith, along with her adoptive brother J'zargo, plan to take Skyrim and the Nordic world by storm. This is part 1 of her story


It was Eglanith's twenty third birthday and as of late, her caretaker, Zaynabi, was beginning to worry about the child's inquisitive nature. Normally Zaynabi and her band of vagabonds never turned their thoughts upon the affairs of the world and when they did, it always involved earning a septum. However this child, whom Zaynabi still baby's unconditionally, has started up with her talks of forgotten lore, much like she did when Zaynabi's band first found her wandering outside of Riften those many years ago. Sure, this not-so-young-child was busy reciting the tales of the First Century like she once had, but it was the venom with which she spoke, along with the sudden resurgence of these tales, that alarmed the four Khajit's in their wandering caravan. In an attempt to subside the child's rising anger, the two traders, Zaynabi and Ahkari, along with their two bodyguards, Kharjo and Dro'marash, put money together to buy the girl a leather bound journal, where hopefully not only could she release some festering emotions but also to record all of the findings that she has been stumbling across recently.

This would be Eglanith's first entry:

_**Tirdas 1, Evening Star, 4E 216**_

_It's the eve of my mother's death and I find that I no longer have a tear to shed. Not because I can't remember her, although at this point in my life I can hardly remember what happened to me at the age of 8, nor was it because I didn't love her. No, I feel numbness from memories that I have tried so hard to repress, and some to remember, from a life that I might have known._

_My mother was Mirtil Angoth and she was one of the very few who survived the Nordic-Falmer War those many centuries ago. She watched as the Snow Prince valiantly galloped into battle on the back of a white steed with his spear in hand and armor glowing in the light revealing the hidden magicka that was forged within. She peered on in amazement while he fought our Nordic foes and riddled the white fields crimson red, as he brought down their mightiest warriors one by one. The Snow Prince held the power of ice within his hands and pierced the hearts of our enemies with his cold command over the element. He systematically and deliberately slew each Nord that had the misfortune of meeting the end of his spear, enrapturing his men in the process.. She saw that victory was near!….._

**(She paused and sighed)**

_….Yes, she saw these things…and she also saw our White Prince fall at the hands of a twelve year old girl enraged at witnessing her mother become the victim of The Prince's swift hands that moments before were hope inspiring to an army of men._

**(Her writing slowed, her hands tensed, and she sat pensively for a while before deciding her next line)**

_And so, our armies fled in disbelief and history was written on that day._

Unable to continue, she closed the thick book hoping to regain her composure. It would seem that she wasn't as numb as she thought she was. She remembered her mother fondly as she wrote those words, for the story of the valiant Snow Prince was one that her mother told at least once a day. She decided to continue her writing after sitting in silence for a few minutes:

_"Mother…why did you have to die? I watched you burn! And I remained hidden….I tried to pick up your ashes, honest I did, but I failed you there as well._**(A tear would stain these lines of her journal) **_What I wouldn't give to hear one more story about the Snow Prince. What I wouldn't give to hear tales about the former glory of my people…but why mother? Why would you always tell me of The Battle of Moesring? The battle which brought our people to shame? I know how important your traditions were to you. Perhaps this is why you had no difficulty reliving such a horrific day, you were preserving our heritage through me._**(She glanced up briefly) **_The smile on Momma Nabi's face is a big one this afternoon. She sees me writing and thinks that I do not notice her watching me. I've been so moody lately because of my recent findings, I suppose I couldn't blame her for watching me so closely. Usually this time of year all I have to worry about is my mother's death and the constant mourning that this season brings, but there are far greater things brewing than feeling the grievances of a child that is only just now beginning to grow up._

_My brother J'zargo has been lending me a hand with my studies through the College of Winterhold, smuggling me books and notes from time to time since I still have obligations here in Riften that prevent me from joining the college myself. Very few of my studies actually revolve around mastering the arts of magic, though my mother began teaching me the power of ice before she died, I've been far more interested in the college's library and ancient texts. J'zargo has recently fulfilled a task for Urag gro-Shub, the college librarian, that he had been promising to do for years now which involved gathering ancient Falmer text. Once the quest was complete, J'zargo knew that I would want to get my hands on those books after Urag gro-Shub had long forgotten about them and he wasted no time in delivering them to me once the old librarian had._

_I had no idea as to what I was going to find but any information about my people could only either reaffirm what I already know or assist me further in my plans._

_Since the day I was born, I have had no vision in my left eye but what I lacked vision of in the tangible world, I have more than made up for with my gift of foresight. I saw the future as a child and I'm only just now beginning to realize that my dreams were more than mere fantasies. At night, after long days of wandering and fighting off the elements, I would dream of the stories that mother used to tell me. I could see the Snow Prince fighting that battle as if I had been there that day watching with my mother's eyes. I saw so many things of the past I could almost promise you that I lived them. I absorbed all of the stories I heard and was able to place myself there and see through the story-tellers eyes. Though this is a very useful trick, it usually only works if the story is of great interest to me, besides that is not the part of my gift that has been troubling me lately. Somewhere between the glory of the future and my disdain for the present am I lost in my own emotions._

_As a child, I dreamed of a white city where shackles were broken, and The Betrayed crawled from out from the shadows of their bondage to rise once again to reclaim what was rightfully theirs! There would be no more prejudice and all of those who roamed this world while it was new would live in harmony and without the scorn of the human races. I know this very same thinking is what caused my people to fall in the first place, but what harmony can be found amongst the humans?….Amongst the Nords? They're nothing but an overly proud people, who boast about the number of skulls they can smash instead of the number of brains they enlighten._

_As a child I used to be ashamed of my face because of the Nords I would come across. I would smudge the coal of the ground into my blonde (almost white) hair. I would rub dirt on my face to appear "normal". In retrospect, mother told me to do this as a way of protecting ourselves from the harshness of the world, but I grew to hate who I was. The other children would fear me, thinking that I was a ghost coming to haunt them for some childish misdeed…the smarter children were worse though cursing me and my mother, accusing us of being members of the Thalmer, because they've never heard of Snow Elves, but they've heard of Altmers. Adults were cruel too, researchers and scientists would realize what I was and I've been imprisoned on more than one occasion "in the name of science".( When it first happened, that is when mother taught me how to fight with a dagger and ice.)_

_Times were no better when Zaynabi found me after months of surviving on my own. Some days I wish I had burned in dragon fire like my mother… I became known as "flea ridden" or "beastial", hardly ever being allowed inside of city walls because of my Khajit family and the Nords lack of trust in them. For a while, I continued to cover my hair and face with dirt and sand but once I saw the way that the Khajit had accepted me, I traded dirt for a hood instead, choosing to only make movements within the city walls at night. I hated my Falmer heritage a little bit less…only a little bit._

_Most of the ridicule didn't bother me as much as watching my adopted family be treated on a level below Daedric worshippers-"at least they were human", they would say. If I hear Momma Nabi is called a "carpet" one more time I will ruthlessly scratch the eyes out of her aggressors in the throes of the night. The only person who had it worse was poor J'zargo who didn't understand the cruelty of the world and who's innocent nature was stolen from him by Nordic children who learned their prejudices from their parents. When the other children would make fun of his heritage, he would claw them all once the opportunity presented itself (because sometimes he would like to catch them by surprise)._

_One day though, his plans went awry as one of his aggressors brought a small army of ten other boys to be rid of his presence forever. The killing was to be a part of some fictitious "ceremony" or "initiation" for one of the older boys…I think they were pretending to be a part of the Dark Brotherhood…I guess it doesn't really matter trying to figure out at this point since J'zargo and I destroyed them all. Kharjo and Dro'marash had tried to teach him a thing or two about swords and hand to hand combat, and J'zargo hadn't missed a single lesson, but he was outnumbered. I had to protect him! So right as he was to be beaten into submission, I arrived and unleashed the power of ice upon those wretched children. All the times I had used the power though it was upon adults who threatened the life of me and mother. These attacks barely made a dent in most men but it served as a good enough surprise for me to distract them and to sneak,or run, away. On another child though, the magic proved to be fatal. It was on that day that J'zargo became interested in the art of magic and he's spoken of the college in Winterhold ever since. Little did J'zargo know though, I watched him fight all eleven of those boys with his bare hands and a tiny sword and he was my Snow Prince on that day. I had Kharjo and Dro'marash teach me lessons immediately. Unfortunately though, our antics forced us all to have to flee in the night before the boys were noticed to be missing…we've ever entered that town again._

_Needless to say, J'zargo and I became quite a team. We would go into whatever city we were stationed in and we would convince the other children to pay us (usually in food) to take care of their "bully" problems. Once we had a little bit of renoun for our work, adults would even ask us to handle their skeever or wolf infestations and we would be paid well on those days,_**(She let out a laugh)**, b_ut not as good as the days when we would break into the houses of our employers (who were usually Nordic). We were subjected to their prejudices on a daily basis. One day it would be, "Aww..well those skeevers shouldn't be a big problem for you, it's just a game of cat and mouse after all and I'm sure you're used to fleas." (Those would be aimed at J'zargo) Another day it would be someone trying to preach to me, "May Thalos have mercy on your blasphemous soul" (They loved to assume that I was a Thalmor even at that young age.) Both J'zargo and I were perfect little sneaks at night though and those rich little families had no idea what hit them. It especially gave J'zargo a good bit of pleasure since he had to deal with racism far greater than any I would ever come across, Snow Elf or not; he viewed it as receiving payment for our pain and suffering. Our antics didn't help the negative stereotypes associated with my people though…that being both Khajits and Falmers (though mother always told me to never use the word Falmer when referring to other Snow Elves-whether they were actually Falmer or not)._

_J'zargo and I became so good at our trade that we made a name for ourselves early into our teen years and we caught the eye of the Thieves Guild. Upon the request of Karliah, and with the permission of our caregivers, we were inducted to be "apprentices" of the Thieves Guild in Riften (probably the only apprentices they've ever had). Rumor had it that we were to be trained to become Nightingales once the current Nightingales had fulfilled their duty to Nocturnal. (Though tales of the Grey Fox were of far greater interest to me, and with my third-eye, I learned that with enough perseverance, I could be the Grey Fox himself which seemed a lot more fun than being a Nightingale). Regardless though, these plans would come to a halt. J'zargo and I had joined the guild, our parents would be crazy not to let us live under the wing of Maven Black-Briar, but J'zargo's heart belonged to The College. J'zargo had grown more rebellious and restless at the time and so the guild allowed him to go on leave for a few years so long as he promised to return one day, which was a promise he readily made(and I have not doubts in him keeping it-he is excellent at what he does). As for me, I stayed behind, content by the thief's life until J'zargo stumbled across a book one day._

_I had forget about my mother for most of the time that I lived with my adopted family and I associated myself with the Khajit, which in my eyes was one step above being a Falmer, until J'zargo found an "ancient text" which he was to delivered to Urag gro-Shub post haste. It was my mother's old journal and he sent it to me before it could be translated by the college. I read of the Snow Prince one more time before I gave it back to J'zargo to be taken to the college. (He had given the book to me during a visit). My mother's spirit shot through me like an arrow and it was then that I knew what I must do. All of my dreams made sense as I read my mother's handwriting…Unbenounced to the Guild, to my family, to the Nine themselves, a plan was beginning to form which would shake Tamriel to its core and J'zargo and I would be at the center of it. The biggest heist of all…The sweetest revenge of all…The Nords will bow..Thalos will bow…All will bow…._

Eglanith closed her journal with a smirk on her face and Zaynabi couldn't have been happier,"That girl's finally feeling better."


End file.
